


One, Two

by Chimetals



Series: Numbers [1]
Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimetals/pseuds/Chimetals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Ryouji has an older brother named Ryouichi. Also some tweaks to the events of episode 13/14. Basically another thing to angst to. Inspired by http://bonjourentrez.tumblr.com/post/75478301909/most-of-this-is-paraphrased-off-twitter-w-e</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One, Two

The sunlight was particularly bright that day; that was the reason Ryouji squinted when he stepped out of his house—it had nothing to do with Ryouichi, Ryouji’s shut-in elder brother. Ryouichi, who hadn’t left the house in years, who had never seen his brother dance, except on the computer monitor in his room. Ryouichi, who had no idea where his little brother had slept the last week—Ryouji hadn’t been home during that time.

Their parents couldn’t help—off in another city, they would have less information than Ryouichi about his younger brother’s habits and friends. Anything that happened to his brother was ultimately Ryouichi’s fault, as well; he was the reason they moved to Zawame; he had wanted to attend the college in the city, and his younger brother, with his adoring eyes, had begged to come along. Yet, Ryouichi had proved himself a pathetic shadow of a guardian, dropping out of college almost immediately, the anxiety of facing the world causing him to hole up in the house for the last few years.

Ryouji, wonderful child that he was, looked at his brother with the same adoring eyes as the day they moved out of the house. Eyes of unbreakable faith, the only eyes that didn’t see Ryouichi as the failure he was. Ryouji was the sun in his older brother’s unlit, empty house of a world, coming home every day with stories poised on his lips. When he formed a dance team, when they claimed their first stage, when Ryouji got in fights with other teams, when they lost their first stage—Ryouichi lived these moments through his brother’s stories. He comforted, celebrated, and laughed along with Ryouji—when the Invess games began, Ryouichi was relieved, in a way—his brother wouldn’t risk getting hurt anymore. Even when Ryouji dropped out of school and picked up a minimum-wage job to buy lockseeds, Ryouichi accepted his actions—as someone that not only dropped out, but could no longer leave the house, who was he to judge?

The games escalated, though, and Ryouichi watched on his monitor as his little brother became an armored rider and began fighting again. The bruises and scrapes started to cover his body like before, but nothing major, nothing serious. Ryouichi began to worry like he did before, the way he worried that one of the other teams would bring a knife to his brother’s fistfights.

Ryouichi’s worries culminated when Ryouji came home edgy one night, his usual monologues reduced to a vague story about the day—Raid Wild had lost the lockseed collection game, and Ryouji’s belt had been damaged. He didn’t know if it would work, and he’d have to take it to Sid for repairs, but he claimed he’d get revenge on the others—that Raid Wild would dominate the rankings in a matter of days.

Ryouji was hiding something—how his belt broke, or that something had happened that day that his older brother wouldn’t approve of. Ryouichi didn’t push it—he should have—but he knew Ryouji would tell him later, when he decided he wanted advice or when the situation resolved.

The next day, the computer monitor showed in excruciating detail Ryouji’s expression as he was emotionally crushed by the betrayal of his friend. Ryouichi made Ryouji’s favorite comfort foods that night, but his little brother didn’t return. It wouldn’t have been unusual for Ryouji to have spent the night at Raid Wild’s hangout, but the days passed, and Ryouichi knew he needed to find his little brother.

And so Ryouichi had left the house for the first time in years, taking advantage of how similar he and Ryouji looked. Dressed in his brother’s clothes, hair trimmed and styled to the best of his ability—he was Ryouji, now. Ryouji, who could leave the house, who could cope with the outside world. He forced himself to believe this wholeheartedly, for the moment he remembered he was Ryouichi, he’d be stranded in a crowd of people, far from the only place he felt safe.

Ryouji headed for the building Raid Wild hung out at. He got lost because he was absentminded, not because the city was almost foreign to him. When he arrived, he found that the doors were locked, and had to scramble in through the window. How many times had he forgotten or lost his keys, and later laughingly relayed this story to his brother, along with the trick of climbing the nearby chain-link fence before leaping to the window?

He fell awkwardly on a worn couch, one he had relocated for the sake of such impromptu entrances. Looking around, it was clear the room was abandoned; dust motes from the couch clouded the air, and dust coated every surface. Raid Wild had split, and if anyone still wore the uniform, they didn’t bother coming to their usual hangout anymore.

The team leader stood, frowning, and brushed off his clothes. Without his teammates, he’d have to turn to his rivals for help—luckily, he was on chummy terms with two of them. He exited the Raid Wild base, squinting as he transitioned from a dark building to the glaring sun again. He paused as he shut the door, remembering the display of cruelty Hideyasu had put on for everyone to see. No, he corrected himself, he had  one friend to talk to right now, not two. Making sure the entrance was locked, he started for the place the Gaim team called home.

It was normal for Ryouji to get lost—after all, he had never been to the Gaim base. Probably. No, definitely, he nodded to himself, he  definitely had never gone there, or he would have told his older brother about it. He also had no idea where it was in the first place—only a vague idea of a location based on Gaim’s stage choice; no one would cross town to dance, especially when most of the team members had to rely on public transportation to get around.

Ryouichi couldn’t summon the nerves required to ask for directions, so he wandered around until he found a place Ryouji knew—Drupers. It was frequented by most of the teams on this side of town; as Gaim was one of them, it wouldn’t be hard to run into some of its members and get to their hangout that way. At the least, the owner of the cafe might be able to point Ryouji in the right direction.

As he entered the store, its employees glanced at him out of habit—and watched him carefully when they recognized him. Ryouichi briefly wondered if something had happened on that last day; if Ryouji had caused trouble in the store, losing his temper and starting one of his fights amidst the customers and tables. Kiyojiro didn’t tell him to leave, however, approaching cautiously and extending a greeting. Ryouichi noticed he stayed near the display in the center of the room—as if to put it between him and Ryouji at a moment’s notice for protection.

“It’s been a while since you were last here, Hase—you feeling better?”

Hase nodded uneasily. It would be the first time in years that Ryouichi had spoken to someone other than his brother. Ryouji, on the other hand—Ryouji had simply caused some mischief, it seemed, and had dropped off the map for just a week.

“Yeah,” Ryouji said casually, “Sorry about... before.” he added, prompted by the cautious looks the Drupers’ duo was still giving him.

He didn’t have a clue what had happened in the cafe, but apologizing for it had been the right move; Iyo returned to leafing absently through a magazine, and Kiyojiro visibly relaxed.

“Ah, well… You didn’t exactly seem like yourself last week.” Drupers’ owner crossed the space between him and Ryouji, treating the latter as someone to converse with instead of a wild animal. In a softer voice, he added, “You know, if you want to talk about it—” he trailed off, holding Ryouji’s gaze. For a second, Ryouichi wondered if he had been exposed.

“To be honest… I don’t really remember what happened that day.” Kiyojiro mulled his confession over.

“I could see that… To put it bluntly, you looked like you were pretty hopped up on something.”

Before either Ryouji or Kiyojiro could say more, the jingle of a bell behind Ryouji signaled someone entering—someone who promptly interrupted the conversation.

“Hase? Hase, is that you?!” Excited, the person wasted no time in crossing to Ryouji, grabbing his shoulders, and thoroughly examining his appearance. Hase was too stunned to speak immediately; Ryouichi quickly took in the other boy’s hair and clothes—the blue and checkerboard pattern of Gaim, roughly the same age as Ryouji—this was Kouta.

Ryouji had a history with Kouta, starting before the Invess game, when stages would often be physically fought for. They were the brawlers for their respective teams, butting heads—sometimes literally—and frequently exchanging blows. Combat skill had established a rather rigid pecking order for most of the teams; Raid Wild and Gaim, however, were fairly even in this aspect. They fought frequently with each other for stages, each losing as many fights as they won. Eventually, the two teams’ fighters formed a strange-but-friendly bond that remained when the Invess game began.

Ryouji tried to pick apart his friend’s expression—worry, joy, relief, surprise—it was hard to pin it down to a word or two. Hase muttered a vague response, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Kouta had no shortage of words, unknowingly filling in the gaps in the other boy’s knowledge.

“You disappeared for like, a week—what happened?” noticing that Hase was still startled speechless, he then added in a quieter, more serious tone, “Hey, are you feeling alright? I mean, you ate that fruit and all...” Fruit? If it was worth mentioning, it couldn’t be the typical fruit you could buy in a store—the fruit from the forest, maybe? The one that turned into lockseeds?

“Ah, that—” Hase reached for something to say; Ryouichi was panicking—Kouta might not know Ryouji had a brother, but he would be able to tell that the person in front of him wasn’t the person he knew.

“He doesn’t remember anything.” Kiyojiro intervened before Ryouichi could break down.

“Y-Yeah.” Ryouji nodded, “I was hoping you could help me figure out what happened.”

“Mmn, that’s pretty tough.” Kouta pursed his lips, trying to recall week-old memories, “I dunno if I can help much, but I’ll try.”

The two boys got a table and ordered parfaits. As Ryouji ate, Kouta went over the events of a week ago; he and Kaito had been fighting the white rider when Ryouji showed up, ripped one of the forest fruits off a vine that had crossed through a crack—

“What’s a crack?” Ryouji interrupted around a mouthful of kiwi.

“Ah, right, you wouldn’t know what they’re called—they’re the giant sky-zippers that connect to the forest—Helheim.” Ryouji nodded, satisfied, and Kouta continued.

Ryouji had eaten the fruit, at which point the white rider had yelled for him to spit it out—he didn’t, and his body—Kouta frowned, trying to think out to word this part tactfully.

“The plant… it made your body change. Green and sorta vine-y. After that, um…”

“Kouta. It’s me. Don’t start pulling punches on me now.” Kouta chuckled nervously, but relaxed a bit.

“You turned into an Invess. At least for a bit, then you turned into something in-between. I chased you here—you were kinda nuts—you attacked Rat, sent him to the hospital.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, nothing serious—but you left after that, and I lost track of you. I haven’t seen you since.” Kouta spooned out a strawberry from his parfait and chewed it thoughtfully. Once he swallowed it, he added, “One of the other riders probably saw you, but I haven’t heard about it. Honestly, I was worried the white rider got you—he tried to kill me once.”

“What did I look like?”

“Green.” Kouta started, “sorta mossy and plantlike in spots—” he gestured to his jawline and arms, “—with these claws on one hand,” and moved his left hand to indicate the claw length of the right. “That’s when you were half-Invess. When you were full-Invess—you looked like one of those old lion statues.” he paused, seeming to realize something for the first time, “The claws… They were still only on your right hand.”

Ryouji nodded to show he understood Kouta’s haphazard gestures and confused descriptions—he ingrained the bit about the claws deeply into his memory—he now had an identifying feature to ask about, which would be useful if someone saw him as an Invess without knowing who it was. He finished his parfait and thanked Kouta before getting directions to Charmant and leaving—his chats with the rider and Kiyojiro had given him an idea.

With Kouta’s directions, Ryouji had no problems navigating to the pastry shop. Hideyasu was working the counter, dressed like a French chef and looking miserable—at least, until the door opened, and he caught sight of Ryouji. Written across his glasses-wearing face were two conflicting emotions—elation and alarm. Ryouji was his closest friend, who no one had heard from in days, but was also a hothead that Hideyasu had stabbed in the back. Hideyasu had always been bad in a fight, so if Ryouji decided to leap over the counter and pummel him, he wouldn’t be able to save himself, and he knew it. He stiffened up like a rodent facing a predator, and when he spoke, it was in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

“Hase, what are you doing here?” Ryouji smiled sheepishly.

“I was hoping you could help me out.” For a moment, the mask Hideyasu maintained to hide his emotions shattered, his disbelief and confusion showing clearly.

“Me. You want  me to help  you .”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

In only a few moments, Ryouichi understood why his brother had been so attached to Hideyasu—Hideyasu and Ryouichi were strikingly similar. Clever but cowardly, they could think through all of a situation’s outcomes, finding the most likely one, and the best actions to take in response. Ryouichi watched, amused, as Hideyasu’s trains of thought screeched to a halt at the word “friends”, backed up, rearranged the tracks, and began chugging in another direction as their owner pieced together the scenario Ryouichi was setting up.

“What’s the problem?” Hideyasu began cautiously. He wasn’t sold on the apparent situation, and was still ready to bolt if needed.

“I was hoping you could help me recover my memory.” Hideyasu’s mask was back now, hiding most of the panic this request brought—Ryouji’s amnesia was a stroke of luck—who knew what he’d do if he remembered Hideyasu’s betrayal. Ryouji ambled up to the glass display counter and leaned on it casually—he was just chatting with his friend, after all. “I don’t remember anything in the past week—Kouta said he saw me eat one of Helheim’s fruits.”

Hideyasu’s jaw dropped open, “you  what?! ” Ryouji opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the kitchen cut him off.

“Boy—” the word was a singsong, barely veiled threat, “—stop flirting with the customers and come back to the kitchen.” Hideyasu cringed, aware he was going to be punished in some way.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he told Ryouji, “wait at a table and we can talk as soon as I’m on break.” Hideyasu disappeared through a door behind the counter, and Ryouji searched for a seat. Able to examine the shop now, he began to feel out of place in his leather jacket, surrounded by frills—aside from a customer accompanied by his girlfriend, Ryouji was the only male in the shop that didn’t work there.

Hideyasu ducked out of the kitchen a few minutes later with a drink in hand.

“I’ll be back in a bit” he informed Ryouji softly as he set the glass down on the table. Only delivering the drink to make Ryouji look less out of place, he vanished back into the kitchen. Ryouji sipped the drink and watched people walking along the sidewalks. When Hideyasu emerged again, he brought two plates with him, setting them down on the table and taking a seat opposite Ryouji.

“I know you like fruity things more than sugary things, so I brought you a tart. If you have any complaints to give to the chef—” he pointed to himself, “—you’re looking at him.” Ryouji didn’t hide his surprise.

“You made this?” It was fantastic-looking, the fruit carefully arranged. Ryouji had only seen desserts look this good in magazines and TV shows. Hideyasu shrugged off the praise—producing artful pastries was apparently as routine to him as getting dressed in the morning or using the bathroom.

“Honestly, I’m sick of eating this stuff. Too many sweets a day.”

“Just because you work here doesn’t mean you need to eat here.”

“No, but Oren makes me. Eating my own cooking is supposed to improve my skills—make my tastes more refined or something.” he picked up his fork and took a bite of the white, strawberry-topped cake in front of him, “but all it’s done so far is wreck my blood sugar levels,” he added dryly. Ryouji tried to suppress a chuckle as he separated a bite from his tart. It wound up tasting as good as it looked.

“So, a week ago—” Ryouji broke the silence. Hideyasu stiffened, fork in his mouth. “—I’m trying to find out what I did.”

“After eating the fruit?” Hideyasu let the fork linger between his lips, speaking around it, then removing it when he was done to get another bite of cake.

“Yeah. Kouta said I attacked one of Gaim’s members at Drupers, then ran off.”

“Why the hell would you eat the fruit?” Hideyasu grumbled, still hung up on that part of Ryouji’s story. Ryouichi remembered the way his brother’s eyes darted around when they spoke a week ago, the way he seemed to be haunted by something Ryouichi couldn’t see.

“It just—it seemed like a good idea, somehow, since my belt was broke.” Hideyasu made a noise that indicated he didn’t think the second part of that statement was in any way related to the first part, but didn’t press the topic further; no sane, logical reason existed to eat fruit from an alien forest.

“So what happened? After you ate it.” Ryouji began to tell Hideyasu what Kouta had told him—when he mentioned briefly becoming an Invess, a trace of recollection flickered across Hideyasu’s face.

“Do you remember something?” Hideyasu wouldn’t meet Ryouji’s gaze, sucking on the tip of his fork.

“No, it’s… it’s probably nothing.” Ryouji watched him quietly—when he stayed silent, Hideyasu would often elaborate. “I fought an Invess that day, is all. One that wasn’t a grunt.” Ryouji waited, hoping Hideyasu would say more. He didn’t; as long as the Invess was unrelated to Ryouji, he didn't need to talk about it.

"Did it happen to have—" Ryouji replicated the gesture Kouta used earlier to indicate the Invess's abnormal right hand. Hideyasu’s eyes widened sharply; the level of recognition was so sudden that it caught Ryouji off-guard, stalling him mid-sentence. Hideyasu shook his head “no” slightly.

“That can’t be right.” he muttered, almost to himself, dropping his eyes from Ryouji’s gaze and staring at his plate in disbelief. He shook his head again, more definitively this time, “That’s not possible.”

“Why?” Hideyasu looked his friend in the eyes again, and suddenly Ryouji saw him not as the brilliant strategist he had known, but a terrified child.

“I  killed that Invess.”

It was a plea for confirmation, as if Hase would become transparent and walk through the wall any second now. Confronted with this unexpectedly vulnerable Hideyasu, it took Hase a moment to speak.

“Yeah,” his mouth was dry, but he forced it to open, forced his lips to move, to form words, “I really couldn’t have been that Invess.” He chuckled, a weak, hollow sound, “Besides, those things aren’t all that unique, you know?” His excuse was too flimsy—the claws were a remarkable enough trait to be used as identification.

“Y-Yeah.” Hideyasu smiled, but in his eyes Hase could see what his brief hesitation had cost him.

He had solidified Hideyasu’s fears; even with a living Ryouji in front of him, he’d have nightmares tonight of killing his friend. Fighting the clawed Invess only to have it turn into a terrified Ryouji as he landed the final blow; standing triumphant over an enemy another night, only to glance down and see his friend, beaten to death—or, when his mind was particularly creative—betraying Ryouji, then, when the other boy was most vulnerable, striking him from behind, with blood from the impact spattering across Hideyasu’s glasses. The dreams would haunt him, night after night; time would help ease their frequency, but the feeling that Ryouji was dead and that the one in front of him was a fake, that the Ryouji in front of him could vanish at any moment—that would never fully leave him, and nothing Hase did would be able to change this.

Hase closed his eyes; he had the pieces of the truth that he needed, and as much as he didn’t want to, he forced them together. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly—his brother was dead. Why he was where he was that day, why he ate the fruit—these were questions he would never have answers to. He opened his eyes, but the world felt fake, a hollow shell. Of course it did—the sibling he cared for so much was no longer in it. Still, this empty-feeling world would keep turning, and needed to choose what he would do from now on.

He glanced over at Hideyasu’s concerned expression, and his decision was made. He’d put one foot in front of the other, like he always did when things got tough—after all, Ryouji couldn’t mourn his older brother forever.


	2. One

It was the truth. Hideyasu couldn’t ignore it, not after it drove Kouta to loiter around Charmant for a week after he learned it. Whether it was crueler to leave Hideyasu unaware or crueler to tell him was a debate that could have continued until the end of time, but Kouta made the decision in days; it was something Hideyasu needed, even if he didn’t want it. 

The person calling himself Ryouji was a fake.

The information had come from Ryouma; he was Kouta’s enemy, along with the rest of Yggdrassil, but it was impossible to deny the truth. Kouta had seen it with his own eyes; Ryouji’s transformation, reduced to a mouse and a crumb of fruit in Ryouma’s lab. The change was permanent.

The real Ryouji was an Invess.

When Kouta finally gathered the nerve to tell Hideyasu, he had no idea he knew only half the truth. Not telling Kouta the full truth was the kinder option, but Hideyasu hardly did it out of mercy; the moment he spoke, theory would become reality. If he was honest about it, he had known since the fake Ryouji had appeared before him. He had  chosen  to swallow the impostor’s lies; they gave him something to believe in when he woke from his nightmares. They held his sanity together.

No longer muffled by the emotional blankets he had smothered them with, the wheels in Hideyasu’s mind began to turn.   
"Where is he?" Hideyasu’s voice sounded distant, impossibly calm. Kouta frowned, his concern evident on his face.   
“I saw him at Drupers, but…” he trailed off.    
“What happened?” His mind was speeding up, a churning chaos he couldn’t stop if he wanted to; he knew the answer just before it passed Kouta’s lips.   
“I asked who he was. Who he really was.” Kouta hesitated; something about the unknown boy haunted him, but he couldn’t summarize what. “He left without a word.”

Reality was melting away, leaving Hideyasu surrounded by dolls; if he screamed, would any of them even react? His thoughts were building up into a silent cacophony--he couldn’t stay any longer. Even if he accepted what Kouta said, even if he repeated his words every day for the rest of his life, he couldn’t blindly accept this as the truth. He needed to find it out for himself, even though he knew it would break him.

Still, Hideyasu had no choice. He needed someone to shove him mercilessly off the ledge Kouta had left him on; he couldn’t climb back up to where he had started, and he couldn’t jump just because someone told him to. He stood, quietly, and walked out of Charmant before Kouta could stop him. Five steps from the door, Hideyasu’s mask began to crack--he didn’t have much time left--and he sprinted away from the pastry store. His mind supplied a million possible destinations, but instinctively he knew there was only one. Ryouji’s house.

Ryouji had brought him there once, after a fight. Hideyasu had sprained his ankle, and the Raid Wild leader’s house was the closest place to treat him. The building was in a surprisingly suburban neighborhood, which would have made it hard to identify, if not for the unkempt yard. 

Hideyasu should have taken a train, but he couldn’t stand to be still, even for a few minutes; it was shower, but his feet pounding the concrete gave him the sense that he was getting somewhere. He ran out of breath within minutes, but he struggled through the pain in his sides; he couldn’t afford to stop until he stood on Ryouji’s doorstep.

The house was sadder than he remembered it. Emptier. It felt run-down, even though it looked as new as the ones adjacent to it. It had only been a few weeks since Ryouji left the house, but the door felt like it hadn’t been opened in years; heavy and foreboding, it didn’t seem like anyone had ever knocked on it before.

Hideyasu slammed the side of his fist into it. The house probably had a doorbell, but doorbells were impersonal, annoying things; he couldn’t control their volume, and he certainly couldn’t whale on it with everything he had.   
“Hase!” He yelled, “Hase, open this door!” the noise from his hand echoed in the empty house--he struck the door harder, as if to single-handedly restore the noises in the house that Ryouji had taken with him. Clumsy thumps as he tripped over an object in his dark kitchen, on his way back to his room after fetching a midnight snack--too lazy to turn on the lights, but with his night vision stolen by the glow from the fridge. Careless noises made as he flopped on his couch or bed, indifferent whether someone else could hear it or not.

“Open this  fucking door , Hase--I’ll break it down--you know I’ll do it!” Something that usually coated his throat was gone now; the sounds it produced were primal, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware he would yell himself hoarse like this.   
Why? A small part of him questioned,  why are you so sure you’ll remain outside?   
Because there’s no one left to let me in .

The first sob wracked Hideyasu’s body. A dry thing that sounded more like a gasp--it only interrupted his shouting, but it meant he was out of time; mentally and emotionally, he was on the verge of a breakdown. It wasn’t the fall he wanted; one that would shatter him completely, forcing him to pick up the remains and put them together again--an ending that would make him examine what he was, piece by fragmented piece, and change his form to match it. If he broke down now--if his destruction wasn’t complete--he could be reassembled based on how he “should” be. He’d be a badly-repaired incarnation of his former self, the seams visible in a glue of another color and gaping holes left where shards had been lost.

“ Ryouji ” He screamed, the name filled with Hideyasu’s desperation and anger and frustration and everything else that had kept him moving. He hit the door one last time, but it was a pathetic strike. He let his knees give out, sinking to the ground; with his mental and emotional states running on the last of their fumes, his physical exhaustion was sinking in. He let his head rest against the door.   
“Ryouji…” he pleaded again; it was too quiet to be heard in the house, he knew, but he said it anyway, begging whatever forces in control of the world to have mercy on him, just once, even though he had done nothing to deserve such a favor.

His mind idled, thinking of nothing; the noiseless chaos had left him, but nothing followed in its wake--no memories, no regret, no opinions. It wouldn’t last, and one by one, his thoughts rebooted, bringing attention to irrelevant things, easing him back into the habit of thinking; his sides no longer hurt, but the muscles in charge of his panting on the way here let him know how tired they were with every breath. It would be nice if he could give them a rest, but that was impossible while he was alive. He was still wearing his Charmant uniform. Oren would be pissed when he came back, knees covered in the dirt from the doorstep. 

Wearily, he noticed a woman in the house next door staring at him. He couldn’t exactly blame her, after what he just did. She didn’t know what he was going through, being told he had killed his friend--yes, despite everything, that’s what Ryouji really was to Hideyasu--and that the person he had spent so much time with the last few weeks was an impostor--

Hideyasu froze. The impostor. That was who he had come here for, wasn’t it? Someone that was the spitting image of Ryouji, that no one had seen before, that no one knew existed. Why had Hideyasu come to this house? Why had he assumed the impostor would take refuge here?

Where the hell else would he be getting Ryouji’s clothes?

He had a brother. One either a little older or young--no, older. Hideyasu could have smacked himself--with a name like Ryouji, his brother had to be older. He forced his legs to stand as the pieces came together. An older brother no one knew about, that hadn’t asked around about his sibling when he first disappeared--a shut-in. 

Hideyasu stepped back from the door, grabbing his driver. The impostor’s intentions had never been malicious. He pressed the driver to his waist, suppressing the urge to gag--the last time he used this, he had killed Ryouji. He  had to use it, though--he couldn't break the door down otherwise. He inserted the lockseed in its slot--”Never give up~” it sang, oblivious to the irony of it’s phrase. Hideyasu gritted his teeth and endured the transformation; it only lasted as long as the door, which flew open after a couple kicks.

The Hase he was searching for might not have been Ryouji, but he was the one that ate Hideyasu's pastries and lounged around Charmant until his shift ended. He was the one that smiled at his brother's killer and put up with his calls in the middle of the night, when Hideyasu couldn't convince himself everything was okay and needed to hear his voice. 

Despite everything that had happened, despite knowing everything Hideyasu had done, this Hase had called him a friend.

The lights were off; Hideyasu didn't bother searching for the switches, moving quickly from room to room on the first floor. His throat tightened just before he opened each door, never sure what to expect; the walls repainted with blood, its owner's corpse bleeding out on the floor; a body with the face of his friend, strung up with a rope. He cursed Kouta for opening his mouth, for talking to Ryoji's brother first, for giving the other boy a head start.

The stairs to the second floor ended in a short hallway with three doors. The first was a bathroom--Hideyasu left after a glance. The interior of the second, however, stopped him cold. It was clearly Ryouji's room--absolutely nothing was organized, and several of his rhinestone-covered shirts were scattered on the floor.

Hideyasu knew he should head to the last room, but his feet carried him further in. Taped to the walls--mostly clustered near the bed and desk--were a couple dozen photos. Most featured Ryouji with members of Raid Wild, several were pictures taken with Hideyasu, and a few--Hideyasu gingerly peeled the most recent-looking one from the wall--had a younger Ryouji with someone that could only be his brother. The picture Hideyasu held had been taken a year or so ago, probably around the time Raid Wild was started. It was a lousy shot, taken in the house at arm’s length by Ryoji, who had barely managed to get both boys in the photo.

Hideyasu closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The older boy, the one not in his new dance team uniform, was holding his bangs back and making a face to imitate his brother. If it weren’t for Ryouji’s clothes, Hideyasu wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. He let out the breath and opened his eyes before pocketing the photo; it’d make explaining everything to Kouta easier.

It was only a few steps to the last room--much too short for Hideyasu; if the last door hid something horrible, he’d rather the walk never end. Mentally bracing himself as much as he could, he grabbed the doorknob and twisted--

It was locked.

Hideyasu did the only thing he could; he knocked a few times, tentatively, listening for sounds of life. Silence. He  could kick this door in as well, but forcing Hase out of this last sanctuary--exposing him--just felt  wrong .   
“Hey,” he spoke softly, but it sounded loud in the empty house, “you’re in there, right?”   
No response.    
“C’mon, Hase… Say something, will you?”    
There--the sound of someone shifting position--a slight rustle of Ryouji’s jacket, followed by silence. He didn’t intend on responding; Hideyasu decided to take a risk.   
“...Ryouichi.”

Hideyasu waited, hoping he had used the right name. Kouta had thrown Hase mentally off-balance, outing Ryouji as a manufactured persona. He  could have returned to being Ryouji, but his behavior made that seem unlikely.

The voice that emerged from the door was quiet--fragile--yet all-too-identical to Ryouji’s. It was a punch to the gut for Hideyasu.   
“You’re home?”   
Any response that Hideyasu had had lodged itself in his throat; Ryouichi’s mind had re-written itself again.   
“What happened today?”   
“Ah, well--” what was he supposed to say? What  could he say? He couldn’t lie and make up something about Raid Wild--Ryouichi probably knew more about that team than he did. The world was reeling again, and Hideyasu didn’t want to stand any longer; he took a seat amongst the dust, leaned against the door, and did the one thing he could.

He told the truth.

Everything he could remember from the day, from what Oren put him through to what he had for breakfast, he recounted to Ryouichi. He skipped the part where Kouta had visited, but otherwise left nothing out. Every now and then, Ryouichi would make an empathetic noise, or a soft hissing that Hideyasu thought might be what passed for a laugh. The door was still locked, he didn’t know what he was going to do about Ryouichi and his mental state, and he wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into, but he felt better when he was done.

“Hey, Ryouichi,” he wistfully asked the door, “how about we go get a parfait at Drupers? Or one of my cakes at Charmant?” The other boy didn’t answer, so Hideyasu switched directions. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” He didn’t expect him to leave the house--opening the door to his room would be enough. He wanted to see Ryouichi’s face and know he’d be okay if Hideyasu left.   
“I already ate.”   
“I have things I need to do tonight--if I get dinner while I’m out, will you be okay on your own?”   
“Mmnn.”   
Hideyasu let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. In their own jacked-up sort of way, things were going to be alright. Probably.

The sound of footsteps came from inside the room; a moment later, Ryouichi slid something under the door; a pair of keys on a battered pass holder, with a stage card inside. The Raid Wild logo betrayed them as Ryouji’s--had he forgotten them at home, or had Ryouichi hunted them down and retrieved them?    
“Don’t forget those or you’ll be locked out.”   
“Oh… yeah.”   
How Ryouichi had gotten them didn’t matter, as Hideyasu most likely wouldn’t find out. He picked up the keys and left--the conversation had ended.


End file.
